9 things about Nilla…

This is kind of for Chloe, since she doesn’t read sex stories (and that’s okay) and wants real life stuff. Who knew? (nilla shrugs)…I thought no one would be at all interested in a vanilla mom type person.   )beams(     Sweet! Thanks, Chloe! Since I don’t do “mememe’s”, I made up my own list, with my very own special number!

Nine things about Nilla you may not know:

9: am an Aquarian, with all the quirks….anyone who knows me at all, describes me as quirky

8. have ‘car psychic’ abilities…..saved me from several crashes, one into boulders on a moutain road because that “voice in my head” told me to switch lanes  just before rounding a blind curve…and a rockfall in the lane I had been in…and I listened. Every time I ignore it, I get stuck in traffic jams (like last week, twice) or had an accident (with a garbage truck, no less…I was fine, car was demo’d)

7. I  homeschool my  kids.

6. I am kinda/sorta earthy crunchy woman. I make my own bread (every other day, 2 loaves of it!) I don’t use mixes for anything. All food is from scratch. I’m a good vegetarian cook and although I am not a vegetarian, I eat that way 95% of the time. Only meat prepared in the house anymore is the Thanksgiving turkey, and then only because my family comes over for the holiday. I wear long skirts, (and no undies, g), all the time. Hmmm, I was going to say unless shoveling snow (shudder) but…I did that last year. Just wore leggings.  I make a lot of my clothing, my kids pj’s, I knit, and quilt, too!

5. I love all kinds of music. Well, except gangsta rap and heavy metal…but even then there are a few pieces of each I do like. Oh, and Jazz. Not into that too much. Love oldies, new stuff and all in between.

4. Because of #6 we have done cloth diapers for the two youngest. That means that I’ve been washing diapers for 5.5 years now. sigh. Almost there. And every day my friends ask me…so when are you guys going to adopt another one?? NO! no. srsly. No. More. Babies. I’m 50 here, guys. So tired of diapers. Couldn’t hack any more sleepless nights like my dau gave me ….NO!Love babies. Just….admire them from afar now!

3. I worked in the same office for 25 years before becoming a stay at home mom. Now I do piecework at home, and work one day a week (at the same place, but different job now) out of the home…I call it my vacation day, even though I work/play with other kids then!

2. I am a make up slut. I have no fewer than 15 different eye shadow things, 5 or 6 mascara’s, blushers, brushes, pots (I use mineral foundations, not liquid, or I’d have 4 or 5 of those too!) and one of “sparkle dust” because life is just too short not to sparkle.

1. I’m really enjoying thinking kinky. (but you know that, too!) And finding all these kinky friends. It amazes me that no matter the wrapping, most of us are just …..people. We find different ways to get off, sure, but for the most part, are hard working people, doin’ what we need to do to get by in this world.

Do It…

“Do it,” he ordered her. He was sitting, back braced against the headboard, pillows fluffed around him. He looked like some Pasha, knee bent, arm draped across it. His other hand was lightly stroking his soft cock.

She stood, arms crossed.  “Pouting is unbecoming in a slut,”  he informed her, gazing at her steadily. “Do It. Now.”

She glared at him for a bare second before she turned her back to him.

“No, back up, closer to the bed,”  he told her, smiling as she wagged her cute ass at him in response, then backed up as he had ordered.

“yah, that’s it, good, okay, now do it.”

She threw another glance at him from across her shoulder. Her trim back twisted, giving him a profile peek at her lovely right tit, her little bud pointing and dusky.

‘oh yeah,’ he thought to himself, ‘she’s getting off on this,” and he grinned.  “C’mon, slut, stop teasing and do it.”

Slowly she bent her knees, legs shoulder width apart, giving him a perfect view of her shapely ass. An ass that was striped and reddened from her caning earlier this evening. The cross hatching down her thighs was beautiful, but disappeared as she sank deeply into the squat.

“Garland pose” was all she said, as back straight, arms positioned in classic prayer position, she squatted, heels on the floor in correct posture, and drew in 5 slow, deep breaths before rising.

“What does that pose do?”  he queried.

“Opens the hips and genitals,” she responded, tossing a grin over her shoulder, before facing forward and dropping slowing into garland once more. Three more times she rose and fell, her ass curving and tensing with her motions. His cock began to rise again.

“Do it,” he ordered again.

She looked over her shoulder, noted his hardening cock, gave him her smart-ass grin.

“Surely you jest?!”  she said, cocking her hip, putting her hand on it, giving him a 3/4 frontal view of her tits, both nipples engorged and he felt his mouth water with the longing to bite and suck on them.

“No, I’m not jesting, and don’t call me Shirley,” he responded with a laugh, at one of their oldest ‘couple’ jokes. “Do it. Or do I  need to get out the flogger and really redden those cheeks of yours? ”

Again she tried to stare him down. Again his gaze firmed up, from friendly jokes, to Master mode. Sliding his arm from his knee, he reached to the side of the bed that was hers, on her good nights, and picked up his favorite flogger.

She turned quickly, then bent from the waist, her arms flexing to reach the floor.

“Downward facing Dog, Master, as you Ordered! ”  The thinly veiled sarcasm was quickly replaced by a yelp, as the flogger lashed across her upward pointing ass. With her legs spread slightly more than shoulder width apart, her cunt was exposed, and received it’s share of lashing as well. The skin on her lower lips and ass pinkened, then darkened to a deep rose. He lashed  her vulnerable bits again. Again she yelped.

Firmly rooted into the yoga pose, she could do nothing to protect herself, not that he’d allow it anyway, but she was perfectly braced, not able to move forward or back spread as she was. Again the bite of the lash against her stinging sore bottom. Despite the humilating position she was in, or perhaps because of it, she felt herself tingling. A few more lashes, a few more yelps and she was trembling, on the knife edge of intense pain and near orgasmic satisfaction.

He stood a moment, watched her legs and arms trembling. He could see her cunt twitching as he looked at it. Her cuntlips were full and pouting at him, begging his cock to c’mon over and visit.

“c’mon over and cum in,” he laughed to himself. 

“What does this pose do, slut?”  he asked her.

“You,” she grunted, pushing her ass back towards him.

Grasping her hips in his hands he pulled her back, slowly impaling her on his full and rampant cock.

“Do it,”  he ordered her again, and  without any argument at all, she did.

Camp Nekkink ch 17

“CLOSED”

They looked at the sign on the Dungeon. He smiled. She frowned.

“Why would they close the dungeon on Saturday? We still have the rest of today before we have to break camp and go ” her voice hesitated, and she drew a deep breath  before she continued softly,  “…home.”

He could tell she was racing ahead of herself, worrying about leaving tomorrow, leaving him. Although he relished her pain, absorbed it, breathed it, he was loath to delve into that just yet.

“You’ll see, cunt,” he replied, a shade too nonchalantly.

She stared up at him, trying to read his expression. It was impossible. When he wanted to, he could blank his face completely. She could tell that whatever it was, it amused him, because the lines around his eyes were crinkled, and the brilliant blue light was just flashing from them in that way that she called “devilish” . Hmmm. Somehow she knew she was not going to be quite as amused as he was. They moved on, heading to one of His friends campsites.

She glanced up at him. “Do you pick up a new slave every year when you come here?” she asked.

He looked down at her, smiled. That drove her wild, that smile. He was so incredibly sexy, and yet he was tormenting her, too. “And not a paddle in sight”  she thought with some amusement.

“So, you’re not going to tell me? Or are you going to tell me you’ve been coming here for 10 years and I’m going to be part of a collection of old slaves you’ve gotten over the years?”  She was treading on dangerous ground here, she knew, but thought she might just tweak an answer from him somehow.

“Don’t borrow trouble, cunt,” he replied, his long gait never faltering, even as they passed a slave tied to a tree next to the path, a long pony tail streaming from the plug in her ass. She was on all fours, a gag that resembled a bit in her mouth, tied by that gag to the tree. Clamps squeezed her nipples, the chain between them swinging gently with her breathing.  Her wrists were cobbled together with hemp rope, her knees braced apart by a spreader bar, raising her ass several inches above her head. Cori stopped a moment, but  Master pulled her onward.

“Thinkin’ about takin’ a ride on the pony, cunt?” he inquired, drolly.

“no, no, it’s just that I’ve never seen that in real life before. Only on my computer. It’s very…..” she cleared her throat…

“do go on, cunt,” he prompted her.

“…very ….erotic, isn’t it? I mean, I thought it was rather demeaning when I saw it online, but…it’s …” her voice dropped to a near whisper…”it’s really kind of hot!”

“Hot as in you want to be the pony? Because I can arrange that….”

“No!”  she interjected quickly…”I mean, geeze Master. Can’t I just admire something and not have you take it as a way to embarrass me or sexually stimulate you?” Then she flushed, realizing that she had criticized the man who, in all essence, owned her.

He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised in silent condemnation. She flushed, embarrassed. Dropping her gaze to his feet,  she decided to try to undo her mistake, and fell to her knees, laying her head against his leg. Her voice, muffled against his pants rose to him.

“I, your slave, am very sorry, Master. I didn’t mean that how it came out. Forgive me? Please?”

A long silence. She held her position. She felt his hand, after a very long while, come to the back of her head. She thought he was going to stroke her hair in forgiveness, but instead, felt her head pushed to the ground. When her forehead was planted on the earth between his feet, he gruffly said “hold” and released her. She saw his booted feet move, felt him come behind her. She felt him removing her rubber soled sandals, then *SWAT!* he smacked her upraised ass with one. Over and over again, hitting the spot that had been beaten by Master Michael at the dungeon yesterday, setting that bruise deep. She broke into moans after 10 hard strokes, then tears began after 25. At 50, she was sobbing openly, but held her  position. There was a pause.

“I sincerely hope you will think before you speak so rashly to me in the future, cunt,” she heard him say. She nodded. She did a lot of nodding around him, she thought, trying not to think of her blistered ass. If it was dark, she mused, her butt would be glowing. She started to lift her head, but he counseled her to hold position.

His fingers found her cunt and it was wet.  “Hot, wet and juicy,”  he told her, “just like a good little cunt should be after a good beating”.  Pulling her to her feet, he steered her to a nearby picnic table, bending her over it. His cock slid easily inside her, and he fucked her steadily until his cum spurted inside of her.  He withdrew before she reached her orgasm, and she knew that was the final part of her punishment.  She had never thought that orgasm denial was interesting.  Not.At.All. And yet, his punishments never seemed to stop her from getting hot. Really, seriously hot.

Horny, with a sore ass to boot, she followed behind him to his friends campsite.

Basquing in the Pleasure of You

curvaceous dee has done it to me again! inspiration of this weeks hnt lead to this …   Nilla  *blows kisses to dee**

She walked into the room and instantly all eyes were on her.  She was a tall, strong, curvy woman. Her tightly fitted basque showed  off her waist, dramatized the flare of breasts and hips, while the skirt of the sheer slip she wore beneath it flowed from under the bottom to tease the watchers with softened glimpses of her ass, her legs, and from the front, her pouty mons. The black basque showed her skin to perfection, and the tight half cups raised her breasts like an offering. Those breasts were discreetly covered by a lacey shawl, translucent, but glittering with the jewels that embellished the front. They were glinting and winking with each breath she took.  Of course, the whispy shawl wasn’t that discreet, really.  Rather, it teased, it hinted, it taunted the watchers  at what lay quietly beneath,  the full round orbs of her breasts thrusting the shimmering shawl forward, proclaiming to all those who turned at her entry  “here is a Woman!”

Her head was held high, and the slight glint of a golden necklet hugging tightly  round her throat showed her status….slave.

He came into the room behind her, dressed in black. The stir that accompanied her arrival had served Him well, hiding Him in the backwash as all in the room pressed closer to her. He had heard about tonights auction by chance, and He knew this would be the opportunity He had waited for. Her Master had long refused His offers for her. And  He had wanted her  for a very long time.

When she reached the steps that lead to the small dias, she paused. Hands rose from the side, removed her necklet. Returned, and dipping behind her, untied the tight ties of the basque, releasing it to the floor.  She stepped clear of it.  As the hands rose for the third time, a man’s voice came from the darkness.

“Leave the rest.”

She was helped up the steps, her black high heels clicking as she moved to stand in the center of the dias. She was clad in only the thin  shawl,  and the sheer black slip.

“One will pay for the priveledge of removing the slip. The scarf will remain to …”  the voice paused, amusement lingering in the air,  “…to tantalize you with charms yet to be revealed.”

Despite the dim lighting, a soft blush could be seen illuminating the beautiful woman standing alone, the eyes of many strangers dancing over her nearly nude form. In the warmth of the room, her nipples could be seen, rising. Despite the calm demeanor, an observant person could see both fear, and excitement dancing through the still figure.

A voice rang out “$100 for the slip!”  Laughter, ribald jokes, then

“$200!”  and “$250….300…”

By the $450 mark the bids began to wane until the last two bidders fought over the last few dollars. Finally, at $457, her slip was won. The lucky winner trotted up the steps, and taking a pair of shears from a staffwoman, he snipped first one, then the other of the straps. With a nearly soundless whisper, the silken garment slid to the floor, revealing more of the stoic figure. The winner grazed his finger across the scarf that hid her magnificent tits, sliding it across one , then the other, then flicked quickly across  one nipple, before being escorted from the dias.  She shivered, sensing the hunger in the crowd below.

From the floor below, the bottoms of her well rounded tits were exposed. Heads tilted back, taking in the beauty of the globes hanging above them. The barest hint of aerola was visable beneath the sheer veil, hinting at the sweet cherries that rose at the peaks of those breasts.  Her  mons was bare, and showed the deep crease leading to her sex. She was turned, bent, to show the bidders her well rounded ass cheeks, and yet another view of her mons appeared. The full plump lower lips were flushed, with embarrassment of her predicament, or incipient lust was unclear, but the pouty flesh stirred many hungers in the crowd below.

After letting them look their fill, the bidding commenced. After a long, long while He spoke from the back of the room. His bid left the others in the room gaping in shock and awe. Silence filled the room. He stepped forward. Made eye contact with her. Watched her eyes widen in disbelief and hope.

Later, after the bidding, after the meet and greet, after their escape from the pointless babble of voices, He held her in his arms, soothing her welted ass with His palm.  She was in her rightful place at last.

Camp Nekkink ch. 16

They lounged in her sleeping bag, nestled so tightly to one another that it was hard to see where he ended and she began. His cock was buried deeply in her cunt, further blurring the lines  separating them. One notable difference was the sparkle of metal on her neck, faint light from the dawning day glistening on the “D” ring that lay at the front of her new collar.

He spoke softly into her ear, blowing a soft huff of breath into the whorls and causing a shiver of response in her.

“Cunt, do you know what today is?”

“mmmmm,” she murmured, raising her ear and cunt to further his ministrations on her body, “Saturday?”

“And do you know what Saturday starts with?” he asked, teasing those whorls with the tip of his tongue.

She giggled, shivered some more, causing her cunt to tighten around his cock, making them both moan.

“Fucking?” she asked with a suggestive thrust of her hips, driving him a bit deeper into her wet fuckhole.

“mmmm, good idea, cunt,” he whispered into her ear, “but no, I meant, what letter does Saturday start with.”

She moaned as he pulled out halfway, then slowly, ever so slowly slid his thick cock back into her cunt, roughly rubbing her clitoris with the angle of his thrust.

“S!”  she finally managed to gasp out, “Saturday starts with ‘s’ ! ”

“Not for you!”  he announced gaily, rolling suddenly off of her,

“for you, my sweet cunt,  Saturday begins with Pee!” Laughing, he pulled her from the sleeping bag with startling strength. Grasping her slim wrist in his large hand, he used the other to unzip the tent door, and thrust her before him. When she wiggled and tried to evade him, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder, giving her ass a firm swat, commanding her to “be still or be dragged”.

His long strides ate up the yardage up the pathway from their tent to the bathroom. Outside the bathroom was a kiddie pool. Already there was pee in it. Unceremoniously, he dumped her from his shoulder into the pool, jumping away as her ass landing in the puddle caused a small spash of yellow to froth across the bottom of the pool.

“EEEWWWWWWWWW!” She gasped, grossed out and suddenly chilled. The day was not cold like yesterday had been,  the late August heat finally arriving at camp, but the urine in the pool was no longer warm.

“It’s cold!” she protested, wrapping her arms around herself, and shivering in overdramatic fashion. “Why, Master?” she pleaded.

He put his hand out to stop her before she could protest further.

“I told you yesterday when you chose to not join the other slave that was suffering here, that today would be your turn, slave.” He leaned forward, removed her leather collar, alarming her. “Be still. I am not uncollaring you, merely protecting my investment.” He reached into his pajama pocket, withdrawing a thin metal chain. He used the lock from her ‘good’ collar, and secured the chain around her neck. “There,  now you won’t ruin the leather. Pee is so hard to get out of good leatherwork!” He laughed at the expression on her face.

“Oh slave, you amuse me. ” His pleasure was evident on his face, and she could see he was even getting an erect…no….no

“Let’s see if I can warm you up a bit, cunt,” and without further ado, he pulled out his cock and began peeing on her. He aimed for her face, grinning as the splash of hot urine dashed across her nose, splashing her eyes. She cried out and gasped at the sting of his piss in her eyes, tears gathering quickly to wash the stuff away, and to show her humiliation. Before He had finished emptying his morning bladder on her, a second master had come up and was pissing on her back.

“I’ll be back for you later, cunt, but you’ll be in my line of sight, so no moving until I return.” She nodded her assent, head bowed. She sat there, pissed on by masters and their slaves. A mistress came up, mashed her pubes against her cheek and let loose a torrent of urine against her face. Grabbing her by the hair, the Mistress then ordered Corinne to lick her dry. Disturbingly enough, this rough and disguisting treatment made her cunt twitch, and she swore she could feel herself oozing into the pool which was becoming much deeper than she had ever imagined it could.

At long last, Master returned. He surveyed his dripping, piss covered slave, and smiled down at her.

“You are one fuckingly disguisting pet, you know that?” She nodded, greatly subdued.

He chucked her under the chin. “What’s up, cunt?” he asked, reading into her silence.

She shot him a glance from under dripping bangs. Glared at him.

“I’m horny.” she stated in a petulant tone. “I didn’t think something this gross would make me horny.”

He laughed. Threw back his head and guffawed, bent over and slapped his thigh. She stood, arms crossed, toes nearly tapping (but she decided that wouldn’t be a good move just now) and glared at him some more.

“I’m so very glad I amuse you,” she spoke acidly.

“Oh, cunt,” he said, wiping laughter tears from his face. He grasped her by the back of her neck and guided her into the bathroom. He thrust a bag at her, her toiletry bag she noted with surprise.

“Shower. Now. Immediately. I wouldn’t fuck you at this moment,  for any reason!”     He fanned his hand in front of his face.   “Sorry, cunt, but you smell worse than a men’s room in the bar on  ‘free round for every touchdown’  night!”

“Sorry? Sorry….?? ” she sputtered, but his  hand on her neck pushed her into the ladies room, and he firmly closed the door in her face. His voice receeded as he strolled away. “Don’t come out until you smell like your regular sweet self!” She swore she heard the brute chuckling.

He was chuckling. Wait until she saw the pictures!

The Rental

She wondered, as the sharp cold edge of the knife pressed against her soft neck, why she never listened to Ken. He had told her to wait until tomorrow to return the rental movies.

“No,” she had argued, “these are two free movies, and if they are late, I have to pay a late fee…which makes them NOT free!” After wrangling back and forth, she came up with the coup de grace….

“Besides, we need eggs and milk if you want a lovely Sunday breakfast in bed!”

He was most unhappy when he finally, grudgingly relented, and she strode out of the house with a big grin.

” Point, round,  and match, for the slave!”  she exulted to herself as she backed her old clunker out of their driveway and onto the dimly lit road.

She stopped first at the local market, knowing that their closing time was fast approaching. She thought she would cruise through the video store to see if there was anything she and her Master would watch tomorrow, since it was forecast to be a dark and gloomy day. She moved quickly through the grocery store, adding a nice hunk of cheese and a loaf of cinnamon swirl bread, knowing He would be pleased with the meal she would provide him in bed.

At the video store, she walked up and down the isles before finally selecting two movies,  one was a chick flick about cheerleaders (he’d like the bouncing tits, anyway!) the other  a new disaster flick he had wanted. She paid for her rentals, and sailed out of the store just ahead of their closing time. 

She had parked on the very edge of the parking lot, where there was a long line of shrubs rather than a second row of cars. That way no damned fool would ding her clunker again, as had happened twice in the last week, putting two small dings on her front bumper. She came around the back of the car to the passenger side, opening the door and putting the rentals onto the seat. Closing the door, she passed around the hood, bending slightly to avoid the taller branches, but still managing to scrape  the back of her leg on one of the lower limbs. Bent over, she did not see the stranger in a dark hoodie come up behind her from between the bushes.  She first knew he was there when she was jerked upright by her hair, and felt his knife against her throat. Her keys fell from her hand, clanged once on the bumper, then silence.

She wanted to scream but the knife pressed so hard against her throat that she was almost afraid to swallow, let alone draw in a breath deep enough to yell. His other hand wrapped around her waist and she was pulled back against a hard body. He was strong.  His body was hot, but she was shaking. She had left her purse in the car with the movies, so no phone, no mace, no help.

A gruff voice growled into her ear “put this on”. He took his arm from around her waist, handed her…something. It was …a mitten? She slid it onto her left hand. It was surprisingly heavy. Pulling her arm against her belly, he grabbed a strap and wrapped the cuff firmly around her wrist, holding the glove in place.

Again his dark voice spoke into her ear.

“Hold out your other hand.”

The low tones carried no further forward then her head, so she knew no one else would hear him, even if there was anyone else around at this late hour. No parking lot lights illuminated this one dark corner where she had so blithely parked earlier. The knife continued to dig at her throat and she could feel the panic blooming in her stomach, like a thousand ants crawling in her gut;  bile rose in response to her fear.

“P-please,” she gurgled out, but the knife at her throat pressed harder,and she imagined her blood spilling across the hood of her car, and she fell silent. Tears formed, dripped slowly down her face as she put out her right hand. She felt the second glove go on, felt his hand tighten this cuff as well. The knife moved from her throat, but her relief was short-lived.

Grasping her two wrists firmly, he forced her to bend forward over the hood of her car. He pushed first one, then the other of her gloved hands to the hood, then released her. At once she tried to pull away, but she was held in place…the gloves stuck her to the hood! She panicked, pulling as hard as she could, yet she could not move her hands from the car. She felt him reaching under her skirt, but before she could protest,  her panties were torn off, stuffed into her open mouth, and a strip of cloth wrapped around her mouth and cheeks. He tied it roughly around the back of her head, then shoved her miniskirt up around her waist.

She could hear him chuckle to himself as she continued to pull and writhe trying to free her hands as he stroked her ass and fingered her cunt and asshole. She tried to kick him, which only made him mad. He slapped her ass hard, then took something and bound her legs, spread widely apart, to her bumper.

He leaned over her, mashing her into the car. Her breasts flattened, but he fished under her to grab and maul them. She muttered and moaned through the gag, which only served to fuel his humor at her situation. He stopped laughing when  he pushed his cock deeply inside her, telling her she was a whore, a cunt, a hole for his pleasure. That she was his toy, and he might take her with him when he was done with her, so he could keep on playing with her. With every thrust, he whispered threats at her, nipping at her neck, her ear, her shoulders as she cried and whimpered behind her gag. He gave a few last hard shoves deep into her, punishing her cunt, slamming his hips into her exposed ass, and shot his cum deeply inside her with a gutteral moan.

He wiped his cock on her ass, then slapped her hard.  She lay there, used, abused, his cum dripping from her. She felt him untying her legs, then, reaching over her, he pulled each hand free from the car. He released the velcro securing the mitts to her hands, and the gag.

“Say nothing, and do not move until you have counted to 20. I’ll be watching you, and I’ll know if you cheat that count. Move too soon, and I’ll be back and my knife won’t just be laying across your throat, it’ll be slicing it.”

He melted into the darkness.

She lay draped across the car, counting to 30 just to be certain he was gone. She had heard a vehicle start as she had reached ’22’, so she was hopeful that it was him, leaving. She slid down to the ground, shaking, scrambling around the ground, searching for her keys. Once found, she bounded to the driver’s door, and all but dove into the seat. It took several tries for her shaking hands to insert them into her ignition. Finally they slammed home, and she took off, backing from the parking space rapidly, and heading straight for home. What the hell would she tell Him? Tears formed and rolled down her face. She was a mess. Tears at the top, cum still oozing from her cunt, wetting her car’s seat.

He sat at the kitchen table, with only the light on in the hood fan of the stove. His feet were propped on the table and he waited for her. He heard her car pull into the driveway, the slam of her door, the opening and closing of the other doors as she gathered her items. She came into the darkened kitchen, holding all her packages.

“Cunt?” he spoke from out of the darkest corner.

She jumped. It was visible even in this dim lighting, that he had managed to startle her.  She flashed a look towards where he sat, but couldn’t quite make him out in the gloom. She heard the pop of the chair coming down to all four feet, the scrape of his shoes on the floor as he came towards her.

She still hadn’t figured out what to say, how to say it. His arms came to bracket her against the fridge.

“Cunt?” he spoke again.

“Yes, Sir?” she responded, her voice tear-filled and shaky.

“Put the milk away, cunt.” With that, he levered himself away from the fridge, stepped back one step, crossing his arms. She could see the stern expression on his face. She turned back to the fridge. Froze in horror.

There, stuck on the front of the fridge were a pair of mitts….magnetic mitts.

He leaned against her back as she raised a shaking hand to touch one, whispering into her ear,

“I guess that free rental cost you, after all, cunt. ”

She sniffled, tears flowing again, then turned to him, folding herself against his hard warmth. She knew she would never again so flagrantly defy her Master’s wishes.

Camp Nekkink ch 15

She knew exactly what she would wear to the dance. She had no idea what had prompted her to bring a sarong to this kind of camp, but the flowing, bright colored silk was too tempting to pass up.  It would be the perfect outfit for the dance. She could hardly wait for Him to see her in it. A quick dash of make up, some earrings, and she was ready.

He knew just what she would be wearing to the dance. He called for her to come out of the tent, then blinked. She was gorgeous……but…..     She smiled up at him, grabbing the edges of the silk dress, twirled in front of him.

“What do you think, master?” she said, looking up at him. He looked…stunned.

“Stunned is good”   she thought to herself.

“Cunt,” he sighed. “You are not going to the dance like that. ”

“w-Why ever Not,” she practically whined. Oh, she hated whining. Could scarce believe it was coming from her mouth. But, but…

“Because you are my slave and you do as I tell you. Cunt, for one thing, you are seriously overdressed. For another, I have your outfit right here.” His hand dove into his pocket, came out with a …. a collar?

Now it was she who was stunned.

“A-a…a collar?” she questioned him, staring up at him with luminous eyes. “You are going to collar me? B-but you hardly know me an..and..” she stuttered to silence, teary eyed.

“Will you accept this collar as token of my ownership over you, Corinne?” He held the beautifully wrought leather collar in  one hand, while reaching for her with his other, drawing her close. He murmured into her hair. “It’s too early yet for us to speak of what comes next, and yet. ” He paused.

“I am refusing to let you go, sweet slave.  You have exactly 10 nanoseconds to say no, and then I will secure your future around your neck. Times up.”

She turned her face up to him, a small smile playing about her mouth at his highhandedness, and yet she relished it. His hands gently drew the collar around her neck, the butter soft leather warming quickly to her skins temperature. She heard a click then, and his voice…

“You are locked and taken, Corinne, now to be my slave, my cunt, my pleasure tool. I hold the key to your collar, your happiness, and your future.”  He held the small key to her face, then pocketed it. Then he kissed her. It was a wet, sliding, deep kiss, as he sought to possess every inch of her. His teeth bit her lips, her tongue, and she moaned, caught in a whirlwind of emotion and lust.  He broke the kiss, caressed her face.  He tore the sarong from her, dropping it to the ground at her feet. Turning her to face him, he dipped into his pockets once more. He withdrew a pair of slim wrist cuffs, and ankle cuffs, which he had her fasten on as he gazed at her. She could almost feel his eyes stroking her tits, and her nipples rose in response. As she bent to secure the ankle cuffs, he stopped her.

“No, do it this way, cunt, I want to see you. I want you to know that I’m looking at every inch of you, inspecting my property.'”

She shivered, still caught in the throes of desire. Placing her foot upon the picnic table bench, she bent slowly to fasten the first cuff. He moved around her, and she felt his gaze taking in her ass, her cunt, her thighs. Shifting to the other leg, she caught him gazing lustfully at her, smiling at her in that way of his that shot arrows of pure need to her cunt, which responded by weeping for him.

She turned and stood before him, collared and cuffed. He inspected her, pleased.

“One more thing, and your outfit will be complete, ” he told her. Reaching into the pocket of his shirt, he pulled out a strange pair of objects.

“Musical clamps for those sweet nipples  of yours,” he explained, as he tweaked first one nipple then it’s sister to sharp points of hardness, then clamped them.

She moaned at the sudden painful sensation, and  when he reached out and swatted her  breast, blushed at the tinkling that followed. It was going to be a very musical night.

Babe?

This is a quickie post , about a quickie, to sooth my frustrated muse…missing y’all! More tomorrow!………..**Nilla**
He stood on a ladder in her office, blocking her door to all incoming traffic. She was enjoying the relative peace and quiet.  Since he was up past his chest in the ceiling, she took free license to oogle his legs, his crotch, and if he turned a bit, his lovely ass. Good old fashioned worn-by-wearing jeans that just hugged his body, and made her drool.
 
He stood, head in the ceiling, and watched her watching him. By luck, a crack in the suspension ceiling tile allowed him to stare into the open V of her shirt, giving him a truly awesome view of her nicely rounded tits. He was amused by how much she was staring at him, and made sure to turn occasionally so she could also oogle his ass. Which she did.
“What a ripe sweet piece that babe is,”   he mused silently, smiling.
 
“Hey babe?”   he called down  to her. He watched her startle. Was that because  he had called her babe? Or that he had  broken the trance his cock had over her, he wondered, amused.
 
“um, yes?”  she said, rising from behind her desk  and coming to the foot of the ladder. Looking up, she could barely see his clear gray eyes in the gloom inside the ceiling where his head was.
 
“I have this wicked itch just above the inside of my knee, ” he told her, amazing himself with the story, “and my hands are rather tied up here with these cables”  he showed her his full hands  u” and no place to set them down. Would you mind giving me a bit of a scratch? ” he added a note of pleading, “it’s driving me crazy! ”
 
He leaned back enogh to see her face, watched a plethora of expressions run across it, then hesitantly her hand raised to his inseam. She scratched  lightly at his leg…hesitant.
 
“ooh, babe, you’re almost there…a bit harder, and a bit higher…please babe, I’m dyin’ here” and he gave a show of jiggling on the ladder, trying to rub his knees together with her hand caught betwixt them. Startled, she pulled her hand back, but could tell he wasn’t able to reach his own itch, and the ladder wobbled rather alarmingly, so she reached up again, about 4 inches higher, and rubbed even harder.
 
“mmm, babe, that’s it, almost, a bit higher now,” and as she shifted her hand another inch higher, he took a step down so that her hand settled on his hard shaft with only the thin, worn denim between them. She gasped, tried to withdraw her hand and step back, but his hand came down and forced her fingers even harder against his rampant erection.
 
“mmmmbabe, now that’s the exact place where I have that itch.”
He smiled at her, a gaze that sent bolts of electricity up her spine. She knew exactly what he was connecting next, as he stepped forward one step at at time, pushing her backwards, her hand still forced to grip his cock through his jeans. She thought he would bend her over her desk, and her lips parted, her nipples rose to firm peaks, her woman’s folds began to moisten.
 
He pushed her , to her surprise,   over to the plate glass window behind her desk. As he mashed her against the window, he  lifted her skirt and tore off her thin silken panties with one strong hand. Pushing her ass against the cool glass, that same hand began to saw along her cuntlips, grazing her clit, until a moan came from deep in her throat, and she no longer cared that she was mooning mid-town Manhattan. He pulled a long  electrical tie from his pocket and secured her hands abover her head, fastening them to what she had always considered an unnecessary security lock on the window.
 
He drank her mouth like a thirsty man at a fountain, diving headfirst into her liquid warmth, while his freed cock drove into her, hard. Each slam of his hips against her cunt forced her ass to plaster against the window behind her.
 
She was going to have one hell of a time explaining those marks to the janitor.
 
As the force of her orgasm overwhelmed her, she arched, threw back her head and froze like a woman caught in the fury of a live wire. He took her keening cry deep in his mouth, pumping into her hot and dripping fuck hole like a man possessed, until he too was caught and held in the throes of their electric passion.
 
Spent, they leaned against each other, breathing heavily. Finally, he withdrew a blade from his pants, cut her ties, and straighted her skirt. With a last kiss, he stepped back up the ladder.
 
She sat at her desk, glowing.
 
“hey babe?” he called down to her.
 
“Thanks for scratchin’ that itch!”

 

Striped Sox

He loved to watch her. He saw her cross the quad every day, her coffee cup in one hand, her bookbag in the other. She was one of the older students, a mum, even. He’d eavesdropped on her conversation with one of the  OsO Girls, as he called the “One-the-same-as-the-0ther” younger students. This one, this woman, stood out. She stood  taller, prouder, perhaps. Her personality made up for any lack of height she had. Those sox! They were tall, over the knee. Black and white. And today?  Today she wore fingerless gloves to match. A black miniskirt, one so short it  must’ve shown an acre or more of bare thigh between the hem of the skirt and top of those wonderful sox!  He ached to see even a passing glance at her cunt, but alas, she didn’t sit on the wall today. Her white tank top showed her lovely shoulders, dotted here and there with fairy freckles. Her dark hair hung below her shoulders, drawing his attention to her perky tits. If he looked really hard, he imagined he could just see the aerola surrounding  fantastic nipples. Whenever the breeze had drifted across to where she stood with  her classmates, her nipples rose accordingly, as the wind chilled her. He cheered the wind. He followed the dancing leaves across to where she was laughing. Her face just lit with her smiles.

“Miss Greenwood,” he called to her. She glanced up at his approach. He was her teacher. And he planned to teach her many, many things. Including sharing that dazzling smile, as she knelt between his legs. Wearing those sox. Only the sox.

And maybe those matching gloves.